#and start the script for the technical first chapter

[haliaiii]

hmm if I created a comic/webtoon, should I upload it only on webtoon, or like create another blog just to post it? I mean I could do both probably, webtoon in general kinda sucks and It'd be cool for my comic to be accessible in other places too...

[erythristicbones]

i keep having some points of feeling mildly guilty about scripting another webcomic after putting my old one on indefinite hiatus but. idk man, i think it's gonna really work out this time around. im hesitantly letting myself get excited for it

[smellysluna]

Chapter Two | Again, And Again, And You

Chapter Two: A Fresh Start

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Word Count: 5,5k

Summary:

You've lived through countless timelines—each one shaped by monsters, magic, and the unbearable weight of knowing too much. Until you wake up in a version of reality where none of that ever happened. No dungeons. No deaths. Just high school… and him. Sung Jinwoo—quiet, intense, and impossibly familiar—is here too, and maybe this time, it'll be you who changes his world.

Notes:

I— I think I went overboard with the length of this chapter I mean like— ... just enjoy

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The world felt different when you woke up.

Not in a way you could explain—everything was where it should be, everything looked the same. The sun rose like it always had, painting gold across the ceiling of your room. 

And yet, your chest felt hollow. As if you'd just surfaced from drowning.

You sat up in bed, a sharp inhale cutting through your lungs. Your hands trembled slightly as you touched your face, half-expecting to see blood, ash, or time etched into your skin. But you were young.

You were… young.

You stumbled to the mirror and stared.

The person staring back at you was barely seventeen. No shadows under her eyes. No scars on her neck. No weight of a thousand lives hanging from her shoulders.

You blinked rapidly, as if to wake up again. But this was the dream. Or rather, the end of it.

The world had been reset.

He’d done it.

Sung Jinwoo had done it.

You didn’t cry—not right away. But your knees gave out slowly, and you sat there on the floor, heart pounding like a drum, repeating one truth over and over:

You’re free.

At first, you didn’t try to find him.

You told yourself he wouldn’t remember. That this life was his reward. That he deserved peace without the weight of old memories.

But still… a part of you wanted to see him. Just once. To confirm that he was okay. That he still existed. That it hadn’t all been a dream you made up in the space between lifetimes.

So, you enrolled in the same middle school.

Sliding into the role of a transfer student wasn’t new to you. A few forged documents, a timely uniform delivery, and voilà—new student, perfectly ordinary. You’d even knocked your age down to fifteen on paper. Technically, you were almost seventeen, but what were a couple of years between friends? It wasn’t like anyone was going to card you in homeroom.

Besides, you were already ancient compared to everyone else. Maybe not in body, but mentally? Please. After a few dozen lifetimes, you were basically the wise old sage in a room full of toddlers. If anyone asked, you just had an “old soul.” They didn’t need to know it came with the emotional baggage of a thousand respawns and a suspiciously encyclopedic knowledge of stock market crashes.

Enrolling in middle school felt like sitting through an onboarding presentation for a company you'd already secretly run twice. You knew the rhythm, the roles, the script—even if everyone else thought this was your first day on the job.

A crisp uniform, a clean transcript, and your real name on the roster—check, check, and check.

Sung Jinwoo had already sparked a school-wide glow-up rumor before you stepped foot in class.

He used to be awkward, they said. Kind of forgettable, quiet in a way that made people skim past him in the hallway. But something had shifted.

He came back after summer with cleaner hair, straighter posture.

Suddenly, people realized he was hot.

Like, surprise lead-role-in-a-drama hot.

His smile was easy now. His voice low and warm. Rolled-up sleeves. That thing guys do where they lean back in chairs just enough to look effortlessly cool without actually falling.

He helped teachers carry supplies. He saved a bee from a classroom once, apparently. People said he smelled like clean laundry and citrus and the sun.

Even the guys loved him.

“Bro, I’m not gonna lie,” one classmate had said loudly once, voice carrying across the lunch tables, “we thought you were just, like… a weird shut-in last year. We were so wrong. I’m sorry.”

Jinwoo had just laughed, easy and warm, and clapped him on the back like it really wasn’t a big deal.

It made him even more likable.

Because that was the thing—he didn’t act like someone who’d suddenly realized he was hot. He just was. And somehow, that made people fall even harder.

Girls confessed to him. Often.

Sometimes it was a letter slipped into his locker, folded with trembling care. Sometimes it was a bento left on his desk, wrapped in pastel cloth with a note tucked beneath. A few were bold enough to ask him face-to-face—he always looked surprised when they did. Not because he didn’t expect it, maybe, but because he genuinely didn’t know how to react.

He wasn’t cold. Just… unreadable. He’d thank them, bow slightly, offer a soft smile that somehow didn’t give anything away. And then he’d return to whatever he was doing—scribbling in the margins of his notebook, sipping his strawberry milk, or talking to the guys. Sometimes they’d walk away giggling. Sometimes in tears. It wasn’t clear if he was just oblivious or expertly polite, but either way, nothing stuck.

Until the day you walked in.

It was morning—barely past 9:00.

A math class in full swing, the room draped in fluorescent chill and the quiet scratch of pencils. The teacher’s voice filled the space in low, practiced rhythm, chalk tapping steadily against the board. Outside, the sunlight was pale and clear, leaking through the windows in sharp, angled beams.

And then the door clicked open.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t nervous.

Just… smooth. Deliberate. The kind of entrance that didn’t need permission. You stepped in with a quiet sort of confidence, your bag slung over one shoulder, uniform crisp, expression unreadable. Composed in a way teenagers rarely were. 

You didn’t look around for approval.

You just scanned the room once, calm and quiet, the kind of quiet that made people straighten up without knowing why. You nodded when the teacher finally noticed you standing there—a slight tilt of the head, perfectly polite—and stepped aside like you hadn’t just walked into the middle of a math lesson, like this wasn’t two months too late for transfers.

The chalk stuttered on the board. The teacher cleared his throat. “Ah—yes.” A pause. “Everyone, please welcome our new student, (y/n).”

Chairs creaked. Neck cranes followed you. A ripple of whispers. Half-curious, half-nervous energy filled the air.

“Please find a seat.”

And across the room, Jinwoo—half-slouched in his seat, pen resting against his lower lip—looked up.

He blinked.

Like something inside him had missed a step.

For a second, just a second, something flickered across his face. Not surprise. Not interest. Just… confusion. That sharp, uncanny déjà vu with no image attached—only a feeling. A breath held in the dark.

He’d never seen you before.

And yet—something about you tugged at him.

A flicker. A scent of familiarity buried deep under layers of time and dust and forgotten things. He shoved the thought down immediately. It was impossible.

You walked past him—two rows back, your steps soft, unhurried.

He followed the sound without meaning to.

Jinwoo blinked again.

Then, very carefully, leaned back in his chair, tapped his pen twice against his notebook, and muttered under his breath:

“…No way.”

He caught himself a second later, eyes darting to check if anyone had heard.

Then—quick recovery.

He straightened slightly. Pushed his bangs back. Sat there like the embodiment of casual disinterest, the boy too cool to be caught off guard.

Too cool.

Like someone who’d practiced smoldering in the mirror but was now deeply unsure what to do with his hands.

You caught his eye, just briefly, as you scanned the room for a seat.

He looked away immediately. Not too fast. Just… mildly interested in the far wall, apparently.

But after that—

You felt it.

His gaze, brushing over you more than once. Lingering when you weren’t looking.

Not with curiosity.

With confusion.

Recognition.

Like a name that danced just out of reach.

Like a face he should know, but couldn't place—a phantom glimpse from the past. Every time his eyes lingered on you, that sensation crept back. Stronger. More insistent. Unsettling.

You didn’t expect to cause a stir.

At least, that was the plan.

But apparently, mastering the art of not trying was the secret to suddenly becoming the main character.

First, the grades.

Then, the moment you effortlessly corrected a teacher. Graceful. Polite. A tilt of the head, a glint in your eye that said, I’m right—and I’m not even trying to be smug about it.

It started off harmless enough.

Third-period history. The room hummed with the familiar buzz of the late morning sun spilling across desks. The air was warm, thick with the chatter of half-listening students and the teacher’s monotone lecture on post-war reforms.

You were taking notes quietly—head down, pen gliding smoothly—until he said it:

“And of course, women didn’t really play a role in those reforms. Most of them stayed at home. The important decisions were all made by men.”

The words hung in the air for a second. Just long enough.

You blinked. Looked up.

A soft click of your pen stopping. No drama. No raised voice. Just a slight shift in your posture as you lowered your hand and spoke up.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said, calm and even. Not rude. Just… precise. “I think that’s not entirely accurate.”

The room stilled.

Mr. Han blinked over his glasses, clearly surprised that anyone had spoken—especially the new girl.

You tilted your head, like you were still weighing how best to phrase it, before speaking with calm certainty:

“Several female activists were instrumental in shaping the educational reforms and labor policies during that time. Especially in Seoul and Busan. Kim Bok-dong, for example, continued her advocacy even post-war. Also, the Women’s Union had seats at the negotiating table in 1946.”

You didn’t smile exactly—but there was something in your expression. A light behind your eyes. Confident, without needing to flex it. Like this was just a fact, not a fight.

There was a pause.

A long one.

A pencil rolled off someone’s desk. A chair creaked. Somewhere in the back, a girl made a sound like she’d just witnessed a plot twist in a drama.

Mr. Han cleared his throat.

“Yes. That’s… a good point,” he said slowly, adjusting his collar. “I stand corrected.”

You nodded, jotting something else down in your notes like nothing had happened.

But something had.

Two rows ahead, Sung Jinwoo blinked slowly, the faint scratch of his pencil stopping mid-word.

He hadn’t been paying full attention—his gaze had been half out the window, half on the margin doodles in his notebook—but your voice had cut clean through the hum of classroom monotony. Calm. Precise. Just a little sharp at the edges, like the glint of a blade in sunlight.

New girl. Hair tucked behind one ear, eyes still focused on your notebook. As if none of it had mattered. As if a whole classroom hadn’t just silently re-evaluated you in real time. The girl next to you was staring. Someone two seats down had actually scooted closer.

But you? Unbothered.

Jinwoo’s gaze lingered.

There was… something.

Not familiarity exactly. But weight. Like gravity in reverse. The kind that pulls at memory, tugging on something buried under centuries of silence and blood and shadows.

The way you’d held the room just now—it reminded him of her.

The Founder.

The one who'd stood tall even when monarchs threatened war. The one who'd never bowed.

The one he’d never figured out.

But that was impossible.

She was gone. Had to be.

He was the only one cursed to remember.

He shook the thought from his head like mist from his shoulders, turning back to his notes.

It didn’t make sense.

Just another strange feeling in a life full of them.

Still…

His pen tapped against the margin once. Twice.

Then he scribbled something down that wasn’t related to history at all.

Your name.

He wasn’t even sure he’d meant to write it.

But there it was.

And the smallest crease formed between his brows.

What had started as a quiet correction soon spread like wildfire.

You hadn’t raised your voice. You hadn’t even looked smug.

But you’d dismantled a teacher’s outdated view with the elegance of someone flipping a chess piece onto a checkmate square. And you did it with a grace that made the girls around you swoon.

“I think I stopped breathing,” someone whispered to her friend outside the classroom. “She didn’t even flinch.”

From there, it snowballed.

People admired your calm. The way you carried yourself like you knew exactly who you were. Your quiet confidence, the way you listened—actually listened—and spoke like your words mattered. Like theirs did too.

Before long, you started noticing a shift. Girls who usually stuck to their own groups were suddenly finding excuses to hang around, like they were magnetically drawn to whatever vibe you were giving off. No one was trying too hard—they just wanted a bit of your coolness to rub off.

The whole thing still felt a little surreal. A few weeks ago, you’d just been the new girl—the one slipping into class unnoticed, blending into the background. Now, you had a group of girls who were, for lack of a better word, attached to you. They weren’t bad, though. In fact, they were kind of fun. They’d drag you along to lunch, chat about the latest drama, and occasionally ask for your opinion on the most important issues, like which lip gloss had the best scent or whether the cafeteria’s pizza was worth the risk of food poisoning.

Today, they were gathered around your desk, laughing about something one of them had said—some story about a teacher who accidentally wore mismatched socks to class. You found yourself grinning without even thinking about it. There was something so effortlessly easy about the way they included you, like you’d always belonged here.

“You know,” one of them said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t know how you do it. You’re so chill. I mean, way chill. It’s like you’re just, I dunno, above all the drama, you know?”

You laughed, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. “I wouldn’t say above it. Just… trying to survive it.”

“Survive? Girl, you’ve mastered it,” another chimed in, nudging you playfully. “I swear, you’ve got this whole ‘cool, collected vibe’ going on. It’s like you’re a movie star or something.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. It had been a while since anyone said something like that to you, especially not with such earnestness. Was it really that obvious? You’d always figured you were just… trying not to screw things up. In some strange way, you were almost relieved. You were just so tired of being the outsider.

"I don't know," you said, glancing out the window for a second, a little too aware of how your words sounded. "I guess... I’m just happy I can finally be, I don’t know, normal for once."

They all stared at you for a second, as if the idea was so foreign that they didn’t know how to respond. And then they laughed. Not in a mean way, just a soft, understanding laugh.

"Girl, you’re like way past normal," one of them teased, and you swatted her arm lightly, laughing along.

But there was something warm about hearing it. Maybe you didn’t need to be anything extraordinary. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, you could just be yourself.

It wasn’t a bad way to be.

The bell rang for the end of lunch, a mix of relief and slight reluctance hanging in the air as everyone packed up their things. You, however, were still caught in a bubble of conversation, a few girls chatting animatedly around you as you all made your way to your next class.

For a moment, it felt almost like before—like you were part of the group but still slightly outside it. You could feel their eyes on you sometimes, the way they’d smile at you like you were a little secret they were all proud to keep. But there was something different about it now. You weren’t just the new girl anymore. You were... someone they all wanted to be near.

It wasn’t a bad thing.

And yet, as the laughter died down and the group started to disperse, you caught a glimpse of someone at the edge of the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Jinwoo. His presence, always so quiet, still seemed to draw attention.

He wasn’t quite looking at you, but you could feel it—a pull, like his gaze was hovering just on the edge of your peripheral. His eyes flicked to you briefly, but then he quickly turned away, scribbling something in his notebook as if it was the most important thing in the world.

You weren’t sure why it made your stomach tighten, or why your pulse seemed to quicken as you walked past him.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen him around before. He was the school’s “heartthrob,” after all. Everyone knew who he was. But this? The strange tension that seemed to hang between you and him whenever your paths crossed—this was new.

You stepped around him, almost brushing past him, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the hallway’s stale air.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The world continued on around you—students chatting, shoes scuffing against the linoleum—but it felt like everything slowed down.

He shifted, turning slightly, as if deciding whether or not to speak. And then, just as you were about to move on, you heard his voice.

“Hey,” he said, the single syllable low and almost hesitant.

You stopped, caught off guard by the sound of his voice. It was strange—almost like he'd been practicing saying it to you in his head, over and over, before actually letting the word slip out.

You turned, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah?"

There was a beat of silence. Jinwoo seemed like he wanted to say more—something else was on the tip of his tongue—but instead, he just gave a small shrug. "Never mind," he muttered, and with that, he turned back toward the hallway, his shoulders tense as if he’d said something he wasn’t ready to say.

You stood there for a second, blinking in the sudden awkwardness of it all. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had almost spilled out.

But before you could dwell too long on the thought, you were pulled into another conversation by one of the girls from your group, and Jinwoo’s strange, brief interaction was lost in the noise of the crowd.

Because while Jinwoo had become the school’s heartthrob, you had become something else entirely—mysterious, magnetic, untouchable.

The girls didn’t leave you alone.

You were always surrounded. Walking anywhere alone required a strategy.

And Jinwoo?

He looked like he wanted to say something.

He’d lean forward, hesitate. Start to stand. Then pause as someone asked you a question or grabbed your sleeve to drag you to lunch.

He’d sit back like nothing happened. Scribble something in his notebook that wasn’t schoolwork. Bite the inside of his cheek like he was annoyed with himself.

Like he knew you.

Like he’d met you in a dream, once, and the memory had just now caught up.

And still… nothing happened.

Until one afternoon during break—

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. Just you, slipping away while the girls weren’t paying attention.

The school rooftop had always been… yours. Not officially, of course. Just in that quiet, unspoken way places become sacred. It was where the noise below couldn't reach. Where people weren’t buzzing around you with expectations or praise.

Where you could breathe.

You leaned against the railing, arms resting atop it, eyes cast over the schoolyard far below. The spring breeze was light, brushing against your skin with a gentle sway.

You let yourself just be.

No running. No fighting. No pretending.

You were starting to get used to the feeling.

Just the faint sound of distant laughter from the classrooms below, the wind rustling through the trees, the gentle hum of life continuing like the world hadn't ended again and again.

You closed your eyes for a second. Felt the sun warm your face.

This was something you never got to enjoy before. Not really. Not with everything you had to become.

Unknowing to you somewhere from the courtyard, he saw you.

He’d been laughing at some dumb joke Sungil cracked—something about the cafeteria milk again—and his eyes drifted lazily toward the sky.

And there you were.

On the rooftop.

At first, he didn’t think much of it.

You were always slipping away lately, weren’t you?

But there was something about the way you stood. The stillness in your shoulders. The calm. Like someone who’d earned it.

His mind flickered to that moment in class.  

The way you spoke to the teacher—controlled, sharp, like you’d negotiated boardroom wars before.  

The confidence. The dry wit.  

Your name.

It had nagged him when he first heard it. Felt oddly familiar. But he’d brushed it off.

Coincidence, he’d told himself.

But now, watching you from below, everything clicked.

You weren’t a classmate he remembered having in high school.  

He knew this place. Knew the names. Knew who lived and who died.  

But you? You didn’t belong here.

And yet… you were here.

His chest tightened.

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

He was supposed to be the only one. That was the price to pay.

But those eyes...  

Those familiar knowing eyes. The ones that used to make him hesitate even when he was the strongest hunter alive. Like you were seeing something he hadn’t caught up to yet.

He stood so abruptly that the contents of his lunchbox went everywhere.

“I—uh, bathroom,” he said quickly, already turning.

“Again?” Sungil snorted. “You good, man?”

Jinwoo didn’t answer. He was halfway to the stairwell already.

He didn’t know how fast he was going—only that his legs carried him up two flights of stairs like muscle memory had kicked in from another life. The closer he got, the more erratic his heart pounded, not from the run, but from the what if.

What if it’s really her? What if I’m not the only one anymore?

His hand hit the door before he could slow down.

Your eyes flicked to the door before he could even burst through it.

He looked out of breath. Wild-eyed. Like he’d run from something—or toward something—he couldn’t quite believe.

And you just smiled.

The same calm smile you’d given him a lifetime ago, back when everything had been louder, heavier, soaked in shadows.

“I was starting to think you’d never notice,” you said softly.

Jinwoo froze.  

His mouth opened like he was going to say something—but nothing came out. Just stunned silence. The kind where the world shifts under your feet.

There you were.  

The queen of that former world.  

The founder of the most powerful guild in Korea.  

The girl who protected him in ways he didn’t understand during the war.  

The woman who stayed when everyone else turned their backs.

Now here, in a school uniform and wind in your hair, looking at him like no time had passed at all.

He laughed—but it came out hollow, overwhelmed.

“How...?” he finally managed, voice rough.

“How are you—why do you—?”

But he couldn’t even finish the questions. Because how does anyone ask something like that?

How does he ask the past why it followed you here?

And how were you supposed to answer?

You exhaled, softly. Not as if you’d been holding your breath, but like your lungs didn’t quite know how to fill themselves properly. Like you were learning again. Like the weight in your chest was finally being seen by someone else.

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked past him, eyes settling somewhere in the distance—on the soft sprawl of the city below, or maybe a memory that lived just above the skyline.

“It’s hard to explain,” you said after a long moment. “And I’ve never... I’ve never said it out loud before.”

Jinwoo didn’t interrupt. Didn’t press.

He just waited, steady as stone, and softer than anyone else had ever been.

Your hands tightened on the railing, knuckles pale. “I don’t know about you. But to me… Time just… reset. Over and over again. I always woke up in my bedroom. Same ceiling. Same air. Same parents calling me down for breakfast like nothing had changed.”

You smiled, but it was hollow. It ghosted across your lips like something you didn’t believe in anymore.

“The first few times, I thought I was crazy. I mean, who wouldn't? One moment I’m dead, and then it’s morning again. The same morning. The same goddamn birds chirping outside my window.”

Jinwoo’s fingers curled into his palms.

You looked at him, something quiet flickering behind your eyes. “And it didn’t stop. No matter what I did. No matter how far I ran or who I saved or who I lost. Time just... snapped back. Like it was mocking me. Like I wasn’t enough.”

Your voice began to tremble at the edges, like a surface cracking.

“At first, I thought maybe I could fix it. That there was a point. That if I just made the right choices…” 

You laughed—but it broke halfway out of you. Became something else. Something brittle and wet.

“But then… it just kept getting worse. The gates opened sooner. The monsters got stronger. And then—” You shook your head.

“And then Jeju happened,” you said softly, your words barely above a whisper.

Jinwoo felt his breath catch. 

He remembered the insistence you had on him joining the force. “Just a hunch”, you had said.

“I don’t… I don’t really talk about it,” you murmured. “I haven’t. Not in any of my lives. Not once. I just—” You laughed a little, but it broke into a sharp inhale. “I thought maybe if I ignored it hard enough, it would stop existing.”

You leaned your weight forward against the railing, your shoulders trembling.

“I told myself it didn’t matter. That I’d moved past it. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Jinwoo stepped forward, slowly—carefully. The rooftop wind moved around him like it knew not to interrupt.

You didn’t look at him.

“I remember the smell first. That’s always how it starts. Rot. Blood. Salt in the air. Like the sea was crying too.”

A pause.

“And then the screaming. I can’t forget the screaming. I still hear it when I sleep.”

His hands hovered near your back, unsure. Like he wanted to touch but didn’t want to break the moment.

“I wasn’t even on Jeju,” you whispered, turning slightly toward him now, eyes wide and far away. “I wasn’t one of the hunters. I was just… in a boardroom. Watching.”

Jinwoo’s throat tightened. He just stood there, arms stiff at his sides as the wind swept the rooftop.

“I saw it all. Every feed. Every scream. I watched the lines go dead. I watched people I knew blink out like they were nothing.”

Your eyes met his. Wet. Unflinching.

“And then they came for us.”

You tried to keep the tears back, but your shoulders betrayed you, trembling like a glass that had held too much for too long.

“They weren’t supposed to make it off the island. That’s what we thought. But they did. They crossed the sea like it was nothing. The cities weren’t ready. I wasn’t ready.”

Your knees gave out—but he caught you. Instinctively. Easily. 

Your body stiffened for a second—but then you sagged into him. Gave in. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he could hold you together with sheer will. Your face pressed to his chest, and your hands clutched at his sleeves like lifelines.

You clutched at the fabric of his uniform. “I didn’t even try to run. I froze. I just—stood there, staring out the window, watching people screaming in the streets. And when I saw it… when I saw it coming for me…”

Your body jolted as you broke. Sharp, silent sobs racking through your chest.

Jinwoo tightened his hold. One hand on your back. One cradling the back of your head. Steady. Anchoring.

He felt the tremble of your breath. The way you tried to be quiet, like your pain was an inconvenience. Like you were used to being alone with it.

“It was so fast,” you gasped. “But I still remember every second. I remember the glass shattering. I remember its claws. I remember thinking—this can’t be how it ends. Not again. Not like this.”

Jinwoo’s heart shattered.

And then you collapsed fully into him, and the weight of it spilled out.

Tears soaked his shirt. But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

He just held you. Like the world had ended in your arms, and he was the only piece left holding you to it.

He held you tighter.

“And Kamish,” you choked. “Kamish destroyed the world once. Not just a city, not just a squad—the world. I watched from behind screens, from underground shelters, from bunkers that were supposed to be safe. And every time, we thought we were prepared. We never were.”

You looked up, eyes red, voice barely audible. “I tried, Jinwoo. In some lives, I became a hunter. I thought maybe if I just… knew enough, trained enough, I could do something. Anything. But I wasn’t strong. I didn’t make a difference. I just kept watching the world end.”

Your legs folded beneath you, but this time Jinwoo followed you down, holding you even as the rooftop's cold bit through your skin. You cried harder now, like something ancient inside you was finally breaking open.

He didn’t speak. His jaw was tight. His eyes burned.

Because this—

This wasn’t a pain he could fight.

Not with blades. Not with power.

You had been alone. You had carried it all with you.

And now, shaking in his arms, you were finally letting someone see it.

He held you tighter, tucked your shaking frame into his arms like a vow.

“I’m here,” he murmured, so quietly it almost got lost in the wind. “I’m here.”

He pulled back only slightly, enough to look at you, to study the tear-streaked lines of your face. Even now—eyes red, shoulders trembling—you looked so… innocent. So light. How could someone so weighed down still look like freedom?

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You shattered again.

Sobs that cracked something in the air.

Sobs that sounded like a locked door finally being opened from the inside.

Jinwoo kept his jaw tight, eyes burning. He’d thought he was alone. That he was the only one cursed to remember the horrors of what came before. But you—god, you had remembered everything. And you hadn’t even asked for it.

He’d never understood it before, not fully. Not even when he met you the first time. Why you looked at him the way you did. Why you spoke like someone who had nothing left to fear.

But now he knew.

And something inside him shifted.

No more.

Not ever again.

Not if he could help it.

Then—

Ding.

The shrill chime of the school bell rang through the rooftop silence, jarring against the stillness that had wrapped itself around you both like a fragile cocoon. You pulled back slowly, your hands unclenching from his sleeves, your breath still trembling against the place where your face had been buried in his chest.

“I… I need to go to the bathroom,” you said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Jinwoo nodded, though his throat was too tight to speak. He watched as you walked away, your steps still a little unsteady, the wind tugging gently at your sleeves like it didn’t want to let you go.

And then you were gone.

He made it to class a few minutes later, the teacher already speaking, his voice a dull drone against Jinwoo’s pulse still thrumming in his ears.

You came in shortly after.

Eyes dry. No trace of red.

No puffiness, no shine. Nothing.

Your face was calm.

Your smile soft, easy—like you hadn’t just shattered in his arms minutes ago. Like you hadn’t cracked open and bled every secret from behind your ribs.

For a second, he wondered if he had imagined it. If somehow, he had projected the weight he felt onto you.

But then—he looked down.

There, on his uniform. The faint but unmistakable mark.

Tear stains, darkened into the fabric over his heart.

You had cried.

And the evidence of it was his to carry now.

He stared at the mark, and looked over his shoulder. You shot him an easy smile across the room, and something inside him twisted.

How many times had you done this before?

How many lifetimes had you broken like that, in silence?

How many tears had fallen that no one ever saw, because you wiped them away before they reached the surface?

His chest felt heavy. Drenched in a grief that wasn’t just his own.

You had been alone for so long.

Too long.

And if he wanted to restore what the world had taken from you—

That light, that freedom in your smile—

He knew he’d have to leave you alone again.

Just for a little while.

But he promised himself—

He wouldn’t take long.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Taglist: #open

@snowy-violet @minh907 @o-qi-shisme @shineinouzen15 @awwwia @hannya-writes @tanspostsblog @lovelyevil @misakicchi @gina239 @livelaughlovekuni

[oonajaeadira]

@jolapeno is encouraging us all to list the favorite things we've made this year. And @sixhours and @jeewrites are superlative humans and they have tagged me and I am grateful for that!

I'm not gonna lie, y'all. When I'm asked to reflect on what I've created in the fandom this year...well, "depressed" is a word I could use.

But. It's been such a lovely year in the fandom. We were treated to a Fox, a Roman general, a boy-who-never-grew-up, and a penis collector, not to mention the promise of a very flexible scientific-genius wifeguy and sneak peeks of everyone's favorite melancholy apocalypse survivor.

Thank you to everyone who was helping us keep a lookout for nasty folks and helping to combat deplorable behaviors, and thank you to everyone who did their part keeping spirits bright.

And I will be forever grateful for @pedroscouts and @pedrosummercamp ...it literally gave me something to focus on when my days were running away from me and introduced me to some really sassy and hilarious new friends. <3

Still. 2024 put me through a professional and emotional wringer. So. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna list my wins. First, we'll start with what Jo asked for!

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTER FANFICTION

Okay. So the rules said it had to be a finished project. Playing by the rules, I would have nothing to post. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Poop. So, in the interest of choosing joy, breaking the rules it is!

Fluffbruary Six-Sentence Ficlets - multiple I tried, y'all. I tried real hard. I got through 15! And I was making a new header for each one! And then life got real busy and I had to stop. But I have every prompt assigned and I decided I'm gonna reblog the first half and post the second half this February. I know they're not a popular series, but they make me happy, so they're getting doing!

Leave Off Your Wandering - Joel Technically, I did finish this one, since I had always planned for it to be just the four parts. But at the end of the Winter chapter, I realized it needed an epilogue, so there's another chapter coming. And it's not far off. I may finish it before the end of the year and then it will really not be a lie. But first.....

That Awooo Inside You (Part 1, Part 2) - Fink This may not qualify yet, but the final chapter will be finished before the end of the year. I have it half written and there's a chapter pic ready to go. Proof:

.

And that's mainly it. I did write some pieces for @morallyinept's spooky moodboards as well and really enjoyed that! But that's been what I've been able to do. So to combat the whomp whomp in my heart about it, I include here another list after the tags.

tagging! @katareyoudrilling @secretelephanttattoo @fromthedeskoftheraven @goodwithcheese @walkingaline

And you!

Your Favorite Things 2024 with Jo

PROFESSIONAL CHECKLIST OF 2024

(Pedro girlies can stop reading here. This is solely for me to really take account of and be proud of everything I accomplished this year, but also to let it soak in that I do not want another year like this again.)

JANUARY:

Researched, wrote, developed, costumed and constructed [solo show]

Performed [solo show] in Minneapolis for a limited group

Performed one night in an Off-Book quest slot performance

Performed [solo show] in Tuscon

FEBRUARY:

Prepared for the hellish year to come

MARCH:

Helped to develop new script for [indie company]

APRIL:

Directed new script for [indie company]

Developed, costumed, constructed and performed a short detailed piece for a fundraiser by a company I dearly love and hope to work for

MAY:

Continuance and opening of new script production for [indie company]

Both managing and guest performing in a large fundraiser show for my work

JUNE:

Performing [solo show] in Atlanta

Performing as part of a trio in a long-form improv production in Atlanta

Directing a brand new set of 5 trateau pieces for a company I dearly love

JULY:

Trateau rehearsal continues

AUGUST:

Trateau performances

Huge annual arts event that my work actually centers around

SEPTEMBER:

Travel to Sweden and Finland for work

Travel to Sweden and Denmark for pleasure (first time out of the US since 2019, so it was an accomplishment for me)

Start work on a project that will require me to direct, create, costume, design, manage, market, and help write five separate 60-mintue shows that will all perform within one week of each other

OCTOBER:

Aforementioned 5-show nightmare rehearsals and marketing continue

Performed in all 5 shows

Coordinated an 11-day pop-up market during that same week which included a complete (floor, ceiling, walls) set-dressing of a small room, while being the proprietor and coordinator of all sellers and wares

NOVEMBER:

Died a little inside

Cleaned my studio for the first time in a year

DECEMBER:

Started rehearsals for a show I'll act/sing in this spring, one that will be stress free and a fkn joy and everything that 2024 was not.

[kittenlittle24]

Chapter 6: The Pen Theory of Relativity

Masterlist

Story Masterlist

Previous, Next

Pedro Pascal x Fem!reader

Summary: Pre-med perfectionist [Your Name] thought her gap year internship at The Late Night Hour would be a fun, low-stakes break before med school. Then she literally runs into Pedro Pascal backstage—and somehow becomes his secret lifeline in the chaos of live TV. Between cue cards, coffee runs, and chemistry that won’t quit, she starts to wonder: is this just a summer detour… or something more?

Tag list: @pascal-mynightlyobsession @wanniiieeee @theendwhereibegin

The first thing you registered was the birds. Their chirping pierced through your sleep-fogged brain, too loud, too early for a Saturday. You groaned, dragging the pillow over your face—until the memories of last night crashed over you all at once.

The scrape of Pedro's stubble against your lips when you kissed his cheek sent a fresh wave of butterflies tumbling through your stomach. They multiplied as you remembered his warm palm at the small of your back, his fingers pressing just slightly through the fabric of your shirt as he helped you into the car. That look he gave you under the diner's neon lights—like he wanted to memorize you—made your ribs ache even now.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet room.

You fumbled for it, squinting at the brutal 6:17 AM glaring back at you. Who texts at—

[Pedro, 1:19 AM]: Home. Found something of yours in my car.

(Photo: Your chewed-up ballpoint pen resting on his nightstand beside a half-drunk glass of water. Condensation ring staining the wood. A medical textbook peeked out from under a script.)

Him: You press so hard when you draw. Left grooves in the napkin. Tried to flatten it—now it looks like a crime scene.

[Pedro, 5:55 AM]: Walking into makeup. Wanted you to see this first.

(Photo: The same pen tucked in his shirt pocket, his reflection grinning in a mirror framed by glowing bulbs.)

You stared at the screen, your pulse fluttering wildly in your throat. He'd kept your pen. He'd put it in his pocket. The butterflies in your stomach turned into something more like hummingbirds.

You: You woke me up at dawn on a SATURDAY to show me my own pen?

Him: Technically the birds woke you. I just provided quality entertainment.

You: Your definition of 'quality' needs work.

Him: Says the woman who drew a nervous system like a drunk spider.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile.

You:It was anatomically accurate!

Him: It was terrifying. Coffee at 3? I'll even return your weapon of mass destruction.

You: Only if you promise not to text me before noon ever again.

Him: No promises. But I'll bring espresso as a peace offering.

You dropped your phone onto your chest, pressing your palms to your flushed cheeks. The hummingbirds were now doing full acrobatics, their wings beating in time with your racing heart. Somewhere across town, Pedro Pascal was walking onto a set with your pen in his pocket and your name on his lips.

And you—you were wide awake now, drowning in Saturday sunlight and the terrifying, wonderful realization that this thing between you was far from over.

You caught your reflection in the fogged mirror—lips bitten pink, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed from more than the shower's heat. The clock on your nightstand read 8:53 AM.

Six hours and seven minutes until 3 PM.

Your fingers hovered over your phone. Then you dialed Lena.

It rang seven times before a groggy voice answered, "This better involve fire or free food."

"Come over," you whispered, pacing your spotless kitchen. "I'll make pancakes. And it'll be worth it, I promise."

A beat of silence. Then sheets rustled violently. "You're scary competent at 9 AM on a Saturday. I'm intrigued."

Lena slammed your apartment door shut with her hip, her pajama pants inside out and one sock missing. She took in your styled hair, the blue button-down, and the way you kept touching your phone like it might combust.

"Okay, what," she demanded, tossing her purse onto your couch, "could possibly make you this dressed up before noon on a Saturday?"

You shoved a mimosa into her hands. "Swear you won't tell a soul."

Lena's eyes narrowed. "Is it something illegal?"

"Promise me."

She crossed her heart solemnly. "Fine. I'll take it to my grave. Now talk."

You handed her your phone.

Lena's face transformed as she scrolled through the texts - first wrinkling in confusion at the photo of your pen on an unfamiliar nightstand, then narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the criminally-grooved napkin. When she reached Pedro's shirt-pocket selfie, her mouth fell open in dawning horror.

She looked up slowly. "You went out with Pedro Pascal."

You bit your lip.

"And he kept your pen. Like some... some..." She waved her hands wildly. "Romantic serial killer trophy!"

"Lena—"

She pointed at you. "Tell me everything. Don't you dare miss a single detail."

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Pedro: How's your Saturday shaping up?

Lena made a sound like a deflating balloon. "Oh my god he's texting you right now."

You: My best friend is currently dissecting my life choices.

Lena snatched the phone. "Add a winky face!"

You retrieved phone “No!”

Pedro: Should I send backup? (Also—wrapped early. 2:00 instead?)

Lena's scream rattled the windows.

You: Backup? How much backup are we talking?

Pedro: Only the essentials: coffee, pastries, and me. You don't need anything else.

You almost dropped your phone.

You: I can't decide if you're being ridiculously charming or annoyingly forward.

Pedro: Maybe both?

Lena leaned over, reading the texts over your shoulder. She let out a low whistle. "Okay, I need to know—what are you gonna do with him?"

You pulled your phone away, a nervous laugh slipping out. "I don't know yet. Honestly? I don't even know if this is a date or not. I mean, he's Pedro Pascal."

Lena grinned devilishly. "That's exactly why you need to say yes. Because... he's Pedro Pascal."

You sighed, running a hand through your damp hair. You hadn't expected any of this. One night of late-night diner food and awkward conversation, and here you were, playing text ping-pong with a man who made entire fandoms melt.

You: Alright, 2:00 works. I'll meet you there.

You hit send, then stared at your phone, heart pounding in your chest. The reality of the situation settled in. Pedro Pascal. You had no idea what he wanted, or what you wanted for that matter.

But you were about to find out.

Lena watched you intently. "You're doing this. I can feel it."

Pedro: I'll be there at 2. Don't make me wait.

You: I'll try my best. See you soon, Pedro.

You set the phone down and looked at Lena, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice even, "I guess I'm getting coffee with Pedro Pascal today."

Lena raised her mimosa glass, eyes gleaming with excitement. "You're doing more than that. You're going to savor it."

And with that, you could only nod, knowing that nothing would ever feel quite the same after today.

You took a deep breath, suddenly aware of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach again. You tried to focus on the task at hand—pancakes, coffee, keeping your cool—but every thought kept drifting back to Pedro. He was actually coming. For coffee. With you.

Lena was watching you closely, her grin never faltering. "I'm going to need details after," she said, pointing a finger at you. "Every. Single. Detail."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm sure you'll get them."

There was no point trying to act nonchalant. You'd texted Pedro Pascal, agreed to meet him, and now your entire body felt like it was running on pure adrenaline. What was happening?

Your phone buzzed, making you jump.

Pedro: I'm on my way. See you soon, beautiful.

You stared at the screen for a moment, heat flooding your cheeks. Beautiful?

Lena snatched your phone out of your hands, her eyes sparkling. "Okay, now I'm jealous. You're officially on your way to some rom-com fantasy."

You tugged the phone back, your pulse hammering in your neck. "I'm freaking out," you confessed, rubbing your hands on your jeans. "What if I say something stupid?"

"Then you'll say something stupid," Lena said with a shrug. "But at least you'll be saying it to Pedro Pascal. He's basically a walking apology for every stupid thing you've ever done."

You laughed nervously, glancing at the clock. 1:35 PM. Less than thirty minutes until you're going to see him again.

The next few moments felt like a blur. You managed to pull yourself together, fixing your hair, checking your outfit for the third time—like that would actually matter when he walked in. The truth was, no amount of prep could help with the overwhelming realization that the man who had just texted you about pastries and coffee would be standing in front of you soon.

Lena clapped her hands in your face. "Focus. We need to get you out the door with your dignity intact."

You shot her a grateful smile, trying to ignore the jittery feeling in your chest. "Thanks. I think."

As you grabbed your jacket, your phone buzzed one more time.

Pedro: I'll be the guy with the coffee and the smirk.

You blinked at the message, a smile tugging at your lips. The smirk? You could already picture it.

Lena winked at you. "Go. Savor it, remember?"

With one last deep breath, you made your way out the door, your heart pounding louder than the traffic on the street.

You stepped outside, feeling the cool air wrap around you like a welcome distraction from the nervous energy buzzing through your body. The walk to the coffee shop wasn't long—just a few blocks, but your mind felt like it was racing through every possible scenario. What was it going to be like? Was it going to feel like a casual meet-up, or was there going to be some unspoken tension? Would he think you were crazy? You had no idea, but you were about to find out.

The streets were quieter than usual for a Saturday afternoon, and the sound of your boots clicking on the pavement seemed unnervingly loud. Your fingers gripped your phone tightly, the texts with Pedro still fresh in your mind. The way he'd called you beautiful... it made your heart stutter every time you thought about it.

Lena's words echoed in your head. "You're doing more than that. You're going to savor it."

You stopped for a second, your heart skipping as you looked up at the coffee shop in the distance. It was a cozy little spot, tucked between two older buildings, with outdoor seating that looked out over the busy street. A couple of people were lingering outside, enjoying the rare sunny moment of the day.

And then you saw him.

Pedro was leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, his usual effortless charm radiating from every inch of him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, a few stray curls falling into his forehead in that perfect, casual way. He hadn't noticed you yet, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to take him in—the way the sunlight hit him, the slight smile playing on his lips even as he checked his phone.

You took a deep breath and started walking toward him, trying to quell the butterflies that felt like they were about to take flight.

He looked up just as you reached him, his face lighting up in that way you'd seen in the photos and interviews—like he was genuinely happy to see you.

"Hey," he said, his voice warm, deep, and just a little rough from the morning's work. "I'm glad you came."

You smiled, trying to keep your voice steady. "How could I turn down coffee with Pedro Pascal?"

He chuckled, stepping forward just enough to give you space but also to make you feel his presence. "I'm glad you said yes," he said softly, looking you up and down with a hint of appreciation in his eyes that made your stomach do another flip. "And you look incredible, by the way."

You blushed, trying to brush off the compliment. "I mean, it's just coffee." You shrugged, not sure if you wanted to downplay it or just ease the nerves that were still coursing through you.

Pedro shook his head, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Nah, this feels like more than just coffee."

The way he said it sent a ripple of something through you—something that could've been excitement, or maybe the beginnings of anticipation. He opened the door for you, the bell above it ringing softly as you stepped inside.

The scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled your senses, grounding you in the moment. It was just you and him. No cameras. No fans. Just two people meeting in the quiet comfort of a coffee shop on a Saturday afternoon.

He gestured to the table by the window. "I already got us a spot," he said, leading you over to a small table. The window offered a view of the street, the bustling city scene framed by the peaceful little corner of the coffee shop.

You sat down across from him, still unsure of what this was—was this a date? Was it just casual? You couldn't tell. But there was something about being this close to him, his energy so easy and relaxed, that made the world outside feel distant.

"So," Pedro started, resting his hands on the table and giving you a mischievous look. "Tell me the most embarrassing thing you've ever done that I can't find on the internet."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little. "Oh, that's a dangerous question." You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "But I'll answer if you promise not to google me afterward."

He grinned, leaning in slightly. "Deal."

You let out a sigh, then, feeling a bit more relaxed, launched into the story you'd been holding back from even your closest friends. It was a lighthearted topic, the perfect way to ease into this strange, new territory.

Silence settled between you, filled only by the hiss of the espresso machine and the soft jazz playing overhead. Pedro traced the handle of his mug—black coffee, no sugar—his calloused fingers leaving faint smudges on the ceramic.

"So." He nudged your pen across the table. The one he'd kept all night. "You really do chew these when you're nervous."

You snatched it back, the teeth marks glaringly obvious. "Only during exams. And apparently when famous actors drag me to sketchy diners."

Pedro threw his head back laughing, the sound warm and unrestrained. The barista glanced over with a smile, as if this was a side of him she'd never seen.

"Tell me something real," he said suddenly, leaning forward. The morning light caught the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. "Not the polite first-date answer. What's something you geek out about?"

The question startled you. This wasn't the practiced charm of red carpet Pedro—this was the man who'd Googled medical terms at 3 AM to understand your doodles.

"Terrible horror movie practical effects," you admitted. "The faker the blood, the better."

His grin turned wolfish. "I knew I liked you."

When his knee brushed yours under the table—first by accident, then deliberately—you didn't pull away.

[isat-script-project]

Your amazing work here has inspired me to want to try doing a script project for DQB2 and I was wondering if you had any advice for me?

I'm gonna assume that's some sorta dragon quest game?

Well, ISAT really is a blessing in this regard, because the game is not encrypted at all. Accessing files and all text via rpgmaker MV and VSC is incredibly easy.

okay this got really long i'm putting it under the cut.

But before you get started, there really are some things you need to ask yourself first:

How am I going to get the text from this game?

If your answer is "write it down by hand as I play" then already know that there HAS to be a better way. If you're choosing that method, get yourself emulation, save states, or endless patience, because hooh boy, I've done a little bit of that for a different project (no, I will not elaborate) but save scumming on original hardware to get different dialogue options is agony.

Is there a text dump for your game? Is there a file dump or decomp for your game? Do you have the technical know how to access it? If not, are you confident in your knowledge of the game to accurately identify where all dialogue may occur? If not, are you satisfied missing out on nothing lines and just focusing on the non-optional? Is your game linear enough to not need a closer look at the code to figure out what happens when, as isat does?

2. What's my scope?

Again, do you truly want every line from this game, or just what's "important"? I personally cannot rest until I've exhausted the fucking Menus (which is why there's a script page for those, too) because I'm a completionist with delusions of grandeur, but some people are satisfied transcribing the cutscenes and nothing else (MUCH TO MY ANNOYANCE WHEN I NEED THE OTHER STUFF.... nobody cares about the optional collectible npc dialogue BUT I CARE!!! I CARE!!!!!)

Anyways, what exactly your scope is is gonna significantly influence what your next step looks like.

3. How am I going to present this?

Making the isat script project an individual website mainly came down to how finicky the dialogue in isat is. There's conditionals stacked on conditionals and I wanted a space where I had total control over how to present these factors without influence.

For more linear games, like, say, that time I made all the fewiki scripts for Fire Emblem 6 from chapter 12 onward, it was easy enough to present the scripts on a wiki page just because the game is much more linear, there's less dialogue to begin with, and all conditional text could be nicely divided up into similar groups, like boss dialogue where the condition is just "fight boss with x character".

isat script project would not exist without my fire emblem fixation, fun fact. other fun facts include that as a child i attempted to novelize Mario Party DS by transcribing all story mode text into a booklet by hand, and I did not finish this for reasons that are hopefully obvious.

This is, as you may figure, way easier to do. There is significantly less burden on you to actually understand how a website works - I cannot stress enough that the current state of the script project is only possible thanks to Gold, and without them, we'd still be at all dialogue being formatted as <p><b>Siffrin:</b> Says some text.</p>

For a lot of older games, you can also find whole game scripts being put up into a single document. Tis common on gamefaqs, I've used those plenty. There I believe you're just working with plain ol txt.

The rule is always though look at examples and if they do something cool figure out whether you can copy it. i did not create the website layout myself, i used a base and fiddled with it for a whole weekend until it stopped exploding.

Again, like, using an existing structure like a wiki or gamefaqs or just google docs or a spreadsheet is a significantly eased burden. One of my favorite things ever is actually a text dump on github, of all places. For this one, the person putting it up chose to leave all text in as close to original state as possible, doing no trimming of things like character emotes and leaving in all original string titles of every line. This is also incredibly useful, even if it is more difficult to use for your average schmoe! (This has fucking saved me doing wiki stuff for engage. engage text dump i ADORE you)

Do you want to be as accurate to the code as possible, or as accurate to the game? Do you have the time, energy, and skills to make the visual presentation nice? Or do you want to keep it rudimentary to streamline your process?

If you ARE doing something like making your own website, it is crucial that you figure out your visuals early, lest you be like us, and be stuck in Reformatting Hell for several months, because someone figured out how to make a thing prettier and nicer to read, and now you need to update the 100+ pages you've already created.

Reformatting code like that takes just as long as making a page in the first place, by the by, because you're just not getting around copy-pasting everything line by agonizing line.

This stuff takes HOURS. If I went at it alone, I doubt I'd have finished by now, or within the next like, two years. This is a really time consuming hobby, and I love doing it a lot, it scratches my exact fixation itch, but if your game is huge, consider seeing if people would be interested in joining you? I will also say being autistic about your game of choice is also a bonus in the sustainability department.

Many a times there were just no updates (as they are now) cuz I am just. Distracted by something else. Like yes on one hand I'm going to uni now and have less time but it's not really less time if I can still put 17hrs into a new video game in three days.

Stuff like this is ALWAYS a long-term project and you WILL need to take time off from it or else you'll start seeing html in your dreams and get burnout.

STREAMLINE YOUR PROCESS!!! FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO THIS WITH AS LITTLE EFFORT AS POSSIBLE!!!! Gold introduced me to Espanso, which is a program that lets you set up keyboard shortcuts to insert phrases, which was a MAAAAAASSIVE time saver in the html department, as it allowed me to just rapid fire paste in all the many html classes we stacked for the presentation of the site. even if you are doing a script on a wiki where everything does look like ['''Siffrin:''' says a thing] you will still be doing yourself a favor if you can shorten that '''Siffrin:''' to just typing :s .

As a side note, I also wanna say like. The popularity of isat script project is a complete outlier. Other game scripts may be used by a maniac like me to overanalyze the plot structure of Sonic 06, but you're very likely not going to see that recognition. I love doing this, because I want these resources to exist for myself. I don't do this for the good of the fandom, but because it is useful to me. I started this because I was writing isat fanfic, and got tired of looking up dialogue on youtube or booting up my own game.

Do I know if anyone found my FE6 scripts useful? No. Do I know if anyone is going through Veyle/Quotes and appreciating that I transcribed all the fucking battle voice clips? No. Do I know if someone appreciates me accurately labelling all voice lines from the ring polishing minigame in engage? Hell no. I don't know, I'm never going to get feedback on that. Those are wiki pages, anyone can edit them, they don't have viewcounts or comments I can look at, and the fandom just isn't as prone to taking screenshots and posting about them line by line as isat.

Isat blew the fuck up on tumblr. I'm not saying you'll get no recognition at all, but if you are relying on external motivators, you are probably going to peter out. There are pages I've worked on for other script things that I've genuienly not touched in two years because I just didn't feel like it, and that's also okay.

TLDR:

Figure out how to get the text you need with the least effort possible (and figure out whether doing that is even possible at all!), figure out what scope you're actually willing to put up with, and present it with the least effort possible, because everything else just isn't sustainable. Streamline streamline streamline. Be prepared to spend hours on this and maybe like find a new favorite podcast to just copy paste text to, because honestly, doing this is also pretty zen.

And most importantly, sparkle on, don't forget to have fun! Even if it seems big and intimidating, you can still make it just a fun side project, and slowly chip away at it over time. Rome wasn't built in a day, and with all the advantages going for isat script project (additional manpower, unencrypted files, easy tools for game examination) it still took over a year to complete.

(loop voice) Don't make the same mistakes I did, okay?

oh, yeah, one last thing, if you're not putting it on a wiki and ARE making your own website, ABSOLUTELY PUT IT ON GITHUB!!!! setting up so any changes to the main branch on github get reflected onto neocities is pretty easy and you only need to do it once, and what this allows is to just have random strangers show up and fix your problems for you. sometimes someone will just show up and fix five bajillion typos and then leave. or they'll stick around and help with more stuff and wowie you have a semblance of a team now.

if you're doing it on a wiki, find like, the wiki discord, if someone is interested in chipping in. if you're doing your own website, put it on github. do it. do it do it do it.

[home-sweet-hive]

new comic new comic new comic new-

North Shore Folly

Chapter 0: One Step aHead

[The Beginning/ Page 1 (you are here!)] | Page 2 ]

[Ko-Fi] [V-Gen]

--

Hi yes new comic!! Finally!! This has technically been in the works for QUITE the while, and was the reason BA HRT was coming along so slowly - there's four pages that I had drawn for this that'll never go beyond Discord because they were for an old version of this comic's script that I had to rewrite because EIGHT STEPS OF THE EYE PART SIX SPECIFICALLY INTRODUCED LORE THAT SHATTERED IT (light hearted)

But one rewrite and a new starting page later - here we are! And yeah I'm gonna be posting this one page by page, this first chapter here is 22 pages long so. Yeahhh-

Hope you guys enjoy!! I'm so excited to lead you all down where this goes~

[florallychaotic]

Tagged in wip whenever by the by the supremely talented @avas-poltergeist to post some of my wips

Gonna tag and then have my writing below a cut because I have...five writing only wips im switching back forth from (surely this won't go wrong) @taniushka12 @carnalapples @eraserspiral @euryalex

From the next larks and katydids chapter

In this moment she’s eleven again, and they’re in the backseat of the car, and they’ve just left some fancy event early because their mother got too anxious which in turn made their father a little stressed. And that makes the car ride home a little uneasy but at least she has her big brother and sister to assure her in their own way that everything is okay. And Kate will give Matt a look, and he’ll turn on the little light on the car roof because Alice is practically hiding her face in his shoulder and even though they’re not technically supposed to drive with it on, no one will say anything. And in that moment Alice will know she is loved.

The 90s magical realism inquisition fic is mainly in the drafting process but I do have some early bits written

It came as both a relief and of no surprise when a few days later an Order appointed public relations agent gently, but sternly, said he didn’t have to answer anymore questions. It was always more of an order than a suggestion anyway.

Here's something from the prose-y no longer a soulmate au cullavellan fic

When Mihren first came to, it was a jail cell where she cried for her mother who would not come. Filled her lungs with phlegm at the confusion of it all. The panic. Now, the second time, it’s in a warm cabin. Such are the privileges of being all but branded a prophet.

She agrees to stay, because she is not a selfish thing. She cannot bring herself to neglect the hole in the sky. To leave the world behind, let it rot like it wants of her. Besides, leaving is only delaying the eventual collapse of the continent.

Some batman 2022 era batcat because they've enchanted me again

"No, I mean—" and there goes any idea that she could pin down exactly who Bruce Wayne is, because nowhere in her estimation would she guess "trouble with finding words". Boys like him are supposed to be incapable of shutting up, probably jerk off to the sounds of their own voices. And yet here is Gotham's most eligible bachelor, visibly swallowing and looking like he's mentally skimming the dictionary trying to figure out what to say. It's cute. In the same way one of her strays bringing her the regurgitated bones of a mouse is cute.

And finally, even though writing for TV doesn't work like this, I've started writing a script for apostasy. I hate it but its fun and this is the only screenshot I have on my phone of the writing on my computer haha

[gaster-follower]

hey i got some questions about the chapter 3 secret boss if anyone can help me!!

first, i know the shadow mantle is what makes fighting the knight easier and i know the gist of how you get the mantle. but. i don't want to get the mantle because i don't like the steps required. i play full pacifist and i don't like putting kris through things like that, i don't want to "kill" all the characters in the video game even if it doesn't technically count as ruining a pacifist run because that would be an awful thing to do to kris (and. pathetically, i don't want to,, "kill" tenna,,).

so from what i read, it's possible to beat the knight without it and i was hoping to get some info on how that's possible. i know there's the scripted loss where you all get downed, undyne shows up and gets kidnapped, susie runs after the knight and kris follows. but is there a way to reinitiate the fight after that? i saw there's a specific dying scene that is only for this fight that allows you to rechallenge the knight (hello gaster). how would i access that? because i was watching someone's video of them beating the knight without the mantle and they started the fight full health which yknow would be a big help. the normal fight starts directly after tenna so obviously you would normally start with lower health. how can i start the fight with full health? also i saw someone say the fight takes about 25 turns, is this accurate?

any tips, tricks, or helpful tidbits would be very appreciated!! i'm not sure i would be able to beat the knight even with the shadow mantle but i still want to try because it's bugging me that i beat all the rest and have 3/4 crystals... i want that 4th one if i can manage it. i know i'm decent at the game because i beat jevil quickly, have never lost to spamton neo, and i beat gerson relatively quickly as well. i was confused by the titan at first but i got used to that fight after reading some tips and beat it on my second try. i think if i was able to learn the attack patterns and practice, i might eventually be able to beat the knight.

[analogwriting]

The Other Side of Paradise

Chapter 18: A Tear in Space (Airlock)

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.7k a/n: me??? disappearing without a trace for a month and a half??? i would neverrrrrr (if you happened to see the other chapter title, no you didn't) tags: @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @kattywhomper @ttalgi first|next

“So…what’s the deal with the masks?” 

You were currently shooting for the music video, but it was basic blocking and getting used to things. No real recording or official takes. Most people weren’t in their get ups, just loungewear. You and your band were also in comfortable clothes, but you were still wearing your masks, naturally.

“What do you mean?” You were looking through the blocking script, off stage by the snack table. Law was standing next to you, scrolling through his phone. They were currently setting up the next scene so you were taking some time to go over things.

“Exactly as I said it.”

You looked up from the script, glaring at him before rolling your eyes. He couldn’t see it, but surely he felt it because he shifted a little, clearing his throat.

“I just mean, we’re not recording video, so why wear the get up?” He straightened up a little, putting his phone in his pocket. “No one is in the outfits. Even you guys aren’t fully dressed.”

You shrugged. “We like to live in anonymity. It’s nice to be able to go out in public without being flocked.” You turned back to your script, making some small notes. 

“Well, still. There’s no one here besides coworkers.” He folded his arms, studying you as you worked on editing your script.

“And how can I trust that someone won’t take a photo for some behind the scenes or leak something?” You paused, turning to look at him once more, folding your arms.

Law was silent for a moment as he processed what you said. Then he shook his head. “Everyone here is under contra-”

“Doesn’t matter. People still leak shit all the time. We have our way of doing things. It’s not hurting you.” You were honestly annoyed with the sudden third degree.

The man grimaced, clearly not liking that you cut him off, but you didn’t want to talk about things anymore. You were absolutely exhausted. Things like this wore you out quickly. You were stressed because there were so many people you didn’t know. There were tons of people working that you didn’t trust so you had to be extra hypervigilant.

“Is the voice modulator even necessary? All four of you have it on. What’s the issue of us hearing your voices? There’s no way that-”

“What’s the issue in general, Law?” You set your script down with a long sigh. “It’s not harming you. This is just how we do things. We don’t trust anyone. This is our gimmick and it has been since day one. It’s one thing to ask about the masks, I get it, but to keep prying? You’re getting on my fuckin’ nerves.”

You didn’t even wait for a response before you walked off. You were too on edge, ready to blow. You needed to chill out before you said something you regretted or did something stupid.

--

The rest of the blocking went smoothly. Law didn’t try to talk to you again, but he did keep glaring. You’d probably have to apologize or at least apologize to Corazon. You were just stressed and overwhelmed with everything. You figured you’d give it a little time before approaching it.

It had only taken a week to get the blocking down, now you were doing the actual shooting. Technically, you were doing two songs. One that featured Law and his band was doing one that featured you. You didn’t mind, but you were tired already. You didn’t know if you wanted to collab again anytime soon. This shit was absolutely exhausting.

You still had a couple more other music videos to do. And recording in general. Your work was just getting started and you were ready for the biggest nap of your life and you weren’t sure when that was going to come into play unfortunately.

“Well, hey, Robot Voice.” You looked up from your clipboard. You were looking over some suggestions for changes that you were given. Law was standing there with a smug look on his face. You narrowed your eyes.

What the hell did he want now?

“Robot Voice?”

“Yeah. That’s you. Since you don’t wanna talk to us like a normal human being and use that voice mod.” You shook your head and sighed, you didn’t have time for whatever antics.

“What’s with the sour mood? Are we beneath you?” There was heavy mocking in his voice.

You slammed your clipboard on the table, drawing some attention to you for a moment before people went back to what they were doing. “What is your fuckin’ issue with me? I’m just standing here and you’re coming to bother me. What do you want? What is your goal?”

Law raised an eyebrow and snorted. “It’s like talking to his twin,” he mumbled. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together. “Twin? He? What are you on about?”

“Well, the last time you snapped at me, you kind of sounded like someone I know. The short temper, the language, the way you speak in general.”

You just stared at him, wondering if he was going to elaborate.

“You ever met Kid? You know. From the Victoria Punk?” You felt everything around you stop. The world stopped spinning, your heart stopped beating and you fell absolutely silent. You didn’t even dare move.

“He’s got a short temper like you do. You guys even have the same cadence in your speech. I wonder if you guys are from the same area. Where are you from again?” He looked over at you before pausing. “Uh…are you okay?”

You were clutching onto the table, the world had begun spinning really fast and you weren’t sure if you could keep standing like this; even breathing was starting to get hard. Reality was hitting.

Up until this point, it had been whatever for the most part. Sure, you were at the same company as them, but it hadn’t really set in just how close you were to your plan - to them. This was also the first time someone had said their names to you in a long time. No one in the friend group really said their names. Just referred to them as ‘them’ or not at all. 

But it was setting in just how close you were. To whatever outcome you were trying to achieve - that you would have to come face to face with them eventually. Could you even do that? You figured enough time had passed…

“Y/n?” The voice calling out was far away, but it couldn’t have been Law. He didn’t know your name. You looked over, but everything was blurry.

“Take off their mask! That’s clearly the issu-”

“Don’t touch them!” You heard a smack. “Gig! Get over here, we need your-”

Then it went silent as you passed out.

--

There were about two or three different voices mumbling around you. What happened? What was going on? Suddenly, it hit you. You’d more than likely just had some kind of panic attack from a mere mention of your old friends. You groaned in embarrassment, covering your face.

“They’re awake!” 

“Unfortunately,” you mumbled, wanting to disappear. You couldn’t believe you passed out because of that.

Slowly, you sat up, grumbling a bit.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

You took a moment to adjust to your surroundings. It looked like you were in the dressing room. Your bandmates were at your side and a couple of your friends were rushing to your side to join everyone.

“I-” You paused for a moment. Did you tell them? You sighed, might as well.

“I don’t really know. Law mentioned Kid by name and it just sent me into a tizzy…” You looked down at your hands, feeling Hop start rubbing your back. When you mentioned Kid, the room fell silent - a somber feel settled on everyone.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, I guess. I mean, I know we work at the same company, it was bound to happen but I guess…I guess it never really hit until now.” You let out a long sigh, covering your face. “Just threw me into a loop that’s all. Combined with working all day and skipping breakfast and lunch, probably just set me off.” You shook your head, looking at everyone.

“Sorry for worrying all of you.”

There were several protests to your apology. Didn’t matter who apologized and for what, there would always be protests.

“Well, everyone packed up for the day,” Hop began, motioning everyone to get back and give you room to stand. 

“So, let’s go get some dinner and rest, yeah?”

You looked at her with wide eyes. Wait, everyone packed up for the day? “How long was I out?”

“A couple hours. They assumed you collapsed from exhaustion and overall not taking care of yourself…” Hop glared at you as she paused and you looked everywhere but at her, avoiding her stare.

“They decided to call it a day. They wanted you to get some rest.”

You sighed, covering your face with your hands. You were so embarrassed right now. You couldn’t believe that not only did you faint in front of everyone because of the mere mention of your former friends, but for a few hours. Yeah, you also weren’t exactly taking care of yourself lately because you were trying to get everything together, but still. It was embarrassing all the same.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into your hands, your friends groaning and rolling their eyes.

“Apologize again and I’m going to actually fight you.” Bubblegum shook his head, standing up and stretching.

“Let’s go eat and get some rest for real this time.” 

You didn’t have a choice but to obey. You nodded with a small groan, your stomach rumbling at the same time. Well, good timing, at least.

--

Corazon cancelled work for the next day too, wanting you to rest. You tried to tell him that you were just fine. You had eaten, rested, and good to go, but he just insisted on you taking another day. So, you did. 

The next day you just sauntered around your apartment, working on songs and other things. It had become somewhat of a stress relief for you. You had never seen yourself as someone who would do something like this, but here you were. You had always been more logical and on the business side of things, you didn’t think you’d be a creative person. 

They do say that all it takes is a traumatic experience to bring out the artist in anyone, you supposed that’s just what happened to you. Your childhood love, best friends, and only family member you had left just up and disappearing on you was traumatic whether you admitted it or not.

“I thought you were supposed to be resting?” Bubblegum appeared out of thin air, making you jump. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumbled, putting a hand to your chest in an attempt to calm your now racing heart. “I thought you were out with Hop and Dive.”

Bubblegum snorted, shaking his head as he handed you a bottle of water. “Nah. I decided to take this time to tweak with the masks a bit.” He shrugged, drinking from his own bottle before plopping on the couch next to you.

“What are you working on?”

You shrugged, leaning back to take a swig from the water he gave you. “Nothing really. Just jotting down some lyrics and stuff that’s popped into my head the last couple of days. Some vent writing. Stress relief - those kinds of things.” 

He nodded, glancing at what you were writing. “Who would’ve thought an engineering student, a business student, a law student, and a customer service worker would end up forming a band. It’s like the opening line of a terrible joke.” 

You snorted before falling into a small fit of laughter. He was right - it did sound like the opening of some kind of shitty joke. 

“Well, now we’re here. And we seem to be really good at it.” With the rate you had grown, it appeared that you all were doing something right. And the dedication of your fanbase was something that just drove you to do better.

“True. But, look at us. We were all some of the best students. Of course we succeeded.” He snorted, standing up and stretching. “Alright. I’m going back to work. I’ll leave you be so you can do the same.” Then he headed back to his bedroom where you’re assuming that he just appeared from earlier.

You sighed, stretching a little before settling back down to work.

--

The day after your ‘rest’ day, it was back to business as usual. You acted as if nothing had happened, though people seemed to be cautious around you - as in, everyone was afraid to make you work too hard. Which honestly? Annoying as shit.

“Here, let me carry that for you,” one of the staff from the agency held out his hand for the clipboard in your hand and you finally had enough of it. Luckily, your friends that were working on set knew you well enough not to baby you, but everyone else didn’t seem to get the fucking memo.

“It’s just a fucking clipboard - oh my fucking god.” You slammed it down on the table and headed to the dressing room where you tore off your mask and tossed it onto the couch before sitting in one of the chairs. 

You were seething. You didn’t like this. You didn’t like the fact they were treating you as if you just woke up from a coma. All you did was faint. It wasn’t even that big of a deal - and you took a whole day off! You were fine now, why couldn’t they understand that? You weren’t even doing anything strenuous. You knew your limits and you were doing well to take care of yourself so it didn’t happen again.

You heard a knock at the door. “Who is it?” you barked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Cora.”

“Come in.”

The door opened and closed, signalling he walked in. You didn’t even bother looking at him. You didn’t want to take your anger out on anyone because it was just you that was just agitated. No one particularly did anything besides annoy you, but nothing yell worthy.

“I heard you snap out there. Are-”

“I swear to all things holy if you ask me if I’m okay I’m not going to be.” If you had to hear that one more time, you might just explode.

A sigh came from the man and he sat down on the sofa where you tossed your mask. 

“Fair enough.”

You turned around to look at him finally; he had taken your mask in his hands and was looking at it idly. You sighed, speaking calmly and slowly, trying not to be snappy. “Listen. You have got to tell people to stop treating me as if I’m going to break. Because this is actually going to drive me insane. I’m not some sickly Victorian child. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I just wanted to be careful. I didn’t need you passing out on us again. We’re already falling behind schedule-”

“Then you shouldn’t have had me take off yesterday! I told you that I was fine.”

 He set your mask down next to him as he leaned forward, looking at you with a serious and concerned expression. “And what if you passed out again? Then we would’ve been in the same position, if not worse. It’s better to take some time off when things happen than having to keep doing half days because you’re too stubborn to let yourself rest.”

You glared at him for a moment, falling silent. You knew he was right, you just didn’t like it. A harsh sigh fell from your lips as you folded your arms and looked away from him. 

A small chuckle fell from his lips and he shook his head, muttering something to himself.

“What?” You looked at him, still scowling. What was so funny?

“Nothing. Just thinking.” He sighed a little, looking at you. There was a fondness in his eyes, like a parent looking at their child. “There’s no ill intent. We just are worried, that’s all. I’m worried.”

You put your head in your hands. “You don’t need to be. I didn’t faint because of the work. It was because-”

“Because of what Law said?” 

You stopped, slowly removing your hands from your face to look at him. He had a soft expression on his face.

“He told me what you two had been discussing beforehand. It didn’t take me very long to figure out the rest.”

“So…you know…?”

Corazon sighed, crossing his legs. “What I know is that you’re related to Kid. I mean, the resemblance is there to those who have worked with him. You used to be close with the group and dated…Killer, I believe? However, whatever you’re plotting, I have no idea. I don’t know what brought you here, but I’m assuming something to do with them. It wasn’t my business to ask.” He shook his head, holding up his hands and you just stared at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Figured you had your reasons and you’d tell me if you wanted to.” He shrugged again, putting his hands in his lap. “You are quite secretive, after all. Figured you would’ve told me to mind my own business if I asked.”

You just stared at him for a long moment, processing. After a moment, you sighed, putting your head in your hands again. At least you could hear their names now without freaking out. And he was right, you would’ve told him to mind his own business if he had asked.

“I’m assuming that hearing their names caught you off guard, put things into perspective, reality hit you and it was just a lot to process. You fainted because you were overwhelmed. I’m sure your lack of eating and working so hard was also attributed but that was the icing on the cake.”

You stared at him through your hands. Maybe you had Corazon all wrong. You just thought he was some goofy and aloof guy, but it seemed he had his head on his shoulders more than he let on. He seemed to be more aware of things than you realized. It didn’t really make you wary of him, but you felt like you could trust him just a little more. Not completely, but there was an understanding more than before.

After a moment of silence between the two of you, you finally removed your hands from your face. Would you tell him everything? The plan? Or maybe you would just tell him what he needed to know. Though, he seems to have the gist of it. You sighed, straightening yourself out.

“Okay. You’re right. Kid is my cousin. We took him in when he was a child, so he’s basically like a little brother to me. Heat and Wire were our neighbors as was Killer. We’ve all been basically attached to the hip since we were small. Killer was my first and only love. We’ve been together since childhood.” Your voice began to strain as emotion clawed its way up your throat. Tears stung your eyes and you could feel a headache coming on immediately.

“They just…stopped talking to us once they made it big so…we wanted to get back at them. Make it big and then rub it in their faces. Only we wouldn’t cut off all of our friends. We didn’t forget where we came from like they did…”

Corazon listened to you intently as you spoke, saying nothing. He waited until you were finished. “Have you spoken to them?”

You shook your head, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “No. They cut us all off. We even went so far as to come up here, but we were turned away. We haven’t heard anything in so long. Over a year at least…” Two years? Time was running together and you couldn’t tell anymore.

The man across from you nodded as you spoke. “That’s why you have the masks and identity change? You wanted to do it anonymously and then just do an unveiling. Kind of send them into shock?”

You paused for a moment. “That’s the thing…” Your words trailed off, not knowing how to explain.

“You didn’t actually plan on getting to this point and never thought that far ahead?”

You looked at him for a moment. He really seemed to hit everything on the head right now. He knew you better than you seemed to know yourself and it was weird. You supposed he was from the top entertainment company in the country and was brothers with the CEO, so he had to have some credibility.

A simple, jerky nod came from you. You couldn’t even speak. The words weren’t coming.

Corazon watched you for a moment and nodded. “Okay. Well, that makes sense.” He leaned forward. “You’ll figure it out as you go. I’ll help you however you need. I mean, as a manager, I am under contract to keep your identity secret so I won’t be tattling. Not that I would. When it comes down to it, this isn’t my business. As long as you do your part of the deal, making music and working with us, I see no issue.” 

He offered a small smile. “However, as someone who sees you and your band as one of my own at this point, if you guys need anything, just let me know. I’m here for you.” He reached over, patting your knee before standing up.

You just looked at him, trying to process everything that was happening. You weren’t expecting that kind of reaction. You were expecting to be called childish or insane for it. Though, you supposed he was right. As a manager it wasn’t his business why you joined this line of work. You weren’t expecting him to be supportive.

You watched as he walked to the door. “Now, pull yourself together. We got work to do, kiddo.” He winked before heading out.

What the hell just happened?

NEXT

[rottenraccoons]

HIIII I wanted to ask a more technical question related to the game. I know in another ask I think you mentioned that the ending you get in chaper 1 would determine where the story goes in chapter 2, but I was curious if individual/specific choices from chapter 1 would make a difference or effect anything like a bit of dialogue in chapter 2.

Like for example in Oleanders route you pick a trinket and that can effect a few lines of dialogue later. Will some choices like that carry on into other chapters? Tho I'd totally understand if not since it'd probably get too complicated to do stuff like that ^^

I really hope this isn't spoiler territory. I tried my best not to do that ><

The short answer is yes! Choices you make in chapter one can absolutely be referenced or have ongoing effects in later chapters. For anyone who has never programmed before, I'll explain a little about how choices work under the read more and show some examples of Obscura code, but the simple version is that it's only a little more work to include stuff like this: a line of code and then whatever the extra/alternative dialogue is.

So!! If you've never programmed before, the word you'll want to know is variable. A variable is basically just a box that contains information. In basically all visual novels any information the game needs to remember is stored in a variable. And in Ren'py games, it is very easy to make and use variables for a lot of stuff!

Your protagonist's name, for example, is put in a variable box labelled "Name", and so we can just type [Name] in dialogue and Ren'py knows that what we're asking for is the contents of the "Name" variable box, so it just shows that. You can see us doing just that in the first line of this code screencap! So when you enter your name at the beginning of a playthrough, you're telling the game what information goes into the "Name" variable box.

(You can also see how we set variables here, with the "trust_keir" variable remembering if you said yes or no to trusting him, and if you say no then he gets one point added to his affection score.)

Within a single playthrough/save file your variables stay the same until something in the code changes them, but starting a new game makes a new set of variables for that playthrough. That's why no matter how many new games you start and enter a different name into, your old saves will still have the name you entered there.

Since Chapter 2 is going to be a direct continuation of Chapter 1, you're still in the same save file and so all your variables just continue being used. And that means they're available for us to use for all sorts of things! Using variables can be complicated if there's a lot of them that interact in a lot of ways (ask me how a certain date scene is going!), but here's a pretty simple version.

There's two ways onto Keir's route: you can get kidnapped by him normally, or Vesper can accidentally find a way into Mouse Hole after leaving Cirrus' route. If you do leave Cirrus' route, the variable "cirrus_escape" is set to True. That means that later on, I can program dialogue that will only be shown if you left Cirrus' route, in this case mentioning him by name while passing his church. There's a different line for players who didn't leave Cirrus' route. And we can do that with basically any variable in the script!

(For those who want a total breakdown, the screenshot above works like this:

First line: everyone sees this.

Second line: the code that tells the game only to show anything "inside" it (below and indented) if the player left Cirrus' route

Third line: the piece of script that's shown to players who left Cirrus' route

Fourth line: the piece of code that says "anyone who didn't get to see the third line get to see anything inside this"

Fifth line: the piece of script that's shown to players who didn't leave Cirrus' route

Sixth line: everyone sees this.)

So yes, there will be references to previous things that happened where they're appropriate! We love weaving references to things that happened before into the script, it makes everything feel more alive and responsive to your choices, even if those responses are individually pretty small.

[yuri-is-online]

For who would go crazy in TWST trying to save u over and over i have thoughts:

Vil - Mr. Perfect? Not being able to reach his goal, trying to get to the person who understands him best? ESP. thinking about how he's based on the Evil Queen, someone well known for having a Very Poor reaction to not getting her way? He'd absolutely lose it, have a "where are they now" episode about washed up celebs cause EVERYTHING he has is dedicated to saving you

Malleus - He wields some of the most powerful magic in the world, but he can't save you? Absolutely not. He refuses. Also in his case he's probably resetting the world himself, so the repeated deaths he can't save you from are arguably being caused by him to. He has no sense to pet go - you love him, know him so intimately that a world without you is meaningless. Reset.

Azul - There's no bargain he can make, power he can steal, trick he can pull strong enough to fix this mess. He's blindly ambitious, and refuses to hear the word "no". How could he give up his precious pearl, the one person he knows could see through everything he is that's nasty and gross, and love the whole of it? He knows, deep in his mind, that he can't change this fate. But to give up on you? Truly impossible.

notes: referring to this shitpost here, discussion of spoilers for all currently available books including book 7, I'll slap Malleus's part under read more to make those a bit more avoidable

No but annon your mind... so correct about all of this for all stated reasons and more. Seriously how did I not think about Vil? That's genius?

Assuming the original timeline follows the events currently evolving in game, I assume that Yuu ends up dying as part of Grim's overblot. I think it makes sense for the boys to die that first time too, only to wake up alive and in the middle of preparing for NRC's entrance ceremony. After they make sure that this isn't a dream, and that they really are alive and somehow back in time they start making plans.

Vil

I can see og timeline Vil regretting that he didn't pay attention to Yuu before VDC, and trying to figure out how to stay in their life during his fourth year internship because (even if his feelings technically run a bit deeper) genuine friendships are important to him. Remember how happy to see everyone he was in chapter 6? It's all he can do to remind himself you probably don't know who he is anymore when he sees Crowley drag you into the mirror chamber, he just wants to kiss your preciously confused face.

Something Rook immediately picks up on because I'm pretty convinced he would notice if something was that majorly off script about his queen. Vil's raised eyebrow is .3 centimeters off from his normal concerned face :/ he needs an explanation.

Vil's relieved at first, he has Rook's help and you are surprisingly receptive to his advances. For just a brief moment he has you in his arms and you are alive, and then you are torn away again. And again, and again and again and-

Vil's signature spell is a curse, he can recognize the traces of one, and I agree he would be so determined to break it he would slowly start to deteriorate into a actual villain. It's not like time is advancing forward otherwise, it's not like he can advance his acting career while he is stuck in this time loop trying to save you, trying to not let your zero percent of survival stay zero. I could see him spending a loop killing the other overblot mages before they build up enough blot to hurt Yuu only for that not to work and him to get even more unhinged as a result.

Azul

Ok so you remember that bit in the Ghost Bride event where Azul gets borderline creepy over the thought of being rejected? Or that part of New Years where he suffers a bit of sunk cost fallacy over the grab bags and gets back in line to spend more money on more stuff he doesn't need? Or how about his level up lines? Laughing at the thought of being satisfied with "just this much power" or warning that you will just be taken advantage of in this world, and inviting you to seek safety with him when that inevitably happens?

Well you did and he failed you. And no he isn't really someone who lets go of things. He goes out of his way to tell Riddle that he thinks being greedy is a good thing; you could have had a very long and happy life together that hit every milestone you set out to achieve and it still wouldn't be enough for Azul. He will never be satisfied, never have enough of Yuu.

But he's smart, he knows when things just aren't possible. It makes him more determined to prove himself. If he can't outsmart something as trivial as fate, can he really claim to be a brilliant mage?

Unlike Vil, I don't think he would immediately tell the twins what was happening. I do think they would figure it out eventually, and I do think they would help, but I think they would also maybe... eventually... realize that there was no saving you and maybe it's best for everyone involved if that's accepted. I could see Jade and Floyd going to Yuu directly and asking what you want, not because they are opposed to saving you but because they want Azul's suffering to end.

I don't know if you have ever played Amnesia Memories, but I could see Azul following a similar path to the Joker World/Ukyo (they are not similar characters but meh) in a situation like this. Won't spoil that here but I highly recommend it if you like otome games.

Malleus

In a twisted way I could almost see him being satisfied with being stuck inside a time loop trying to save you. Not at first obviously, at first Malleus refuses to believe he could fail in saving you. He is the fifth most powerful mage in the universe. He is a King, he can not think of anyone, anything that is stupid enough to tell him no.

Maybe he speed runs his own overblot and tries trapping you in a dream, only for that to kill you. Reset.

How about killing the other overblot mages? He'd arrive at that one a lot faster than Vil. Also doesn't work. Reset.

I don't think Malleus would bring Lilia, Silver, or Sebek into the loop of what was going on. Lilia- he's smart, old, and understands just how powerful Malleus really is, but I'm not sure he would be able to realize time itself is being reset. I think he would pick up on what Malleus's plan is in each individual universe and goes out of his way to prevent him from doing something stupid. You know who I could see picking up on it though? Leona and Idia, forcing them to work together to get Malleus to stop further driving a wedge between Malleus and the rest of the student body.

And then there is you, troublesome you. We don't really know what causes Grim to overblot, I could almost see a situation where Yuu does everything they can to save their friends, aware that time is being reset and thinking that finally, this time they can keep everyone from dying. They are completely content to die if it means no one else gets hurt, completely unaware that self sacrifice is what is causing all of this. What is one life compared to everyone in all of Twisted Wonderland after all?

Everything, it is worth everything, this world really is meaningless without you in it. Reset.

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

So I just finished binding Trust Life by the absolutely amazing @chaiandsage (Hello, I am ready to be perceived now, I hope that I have done your story even the slightest bit of justice) and I just wanted to make a post both showing it off, and going through what I learned doing this bind because I did a few new things here and want to talk about it.

Also I'm not going to subject you all to this, so most everything but the final product here is going to be below the cut.

(Also so sorry that the photos aren't the best. I am... Very bad at photography, lmao)

Ok, so let's start off with some of the cool things I learned during this bind. Or, maybe not necessarily cool, but they are things I learned and I think that learning is cool!

First off, I learned how to download and add fonts to Microsoft Word, which while not interesting, does open up a whole world of fonts for future binds. Is it a little late in the game to have found this? Probably. But it is what it is. I actually downloaded a pretty good chunk of different ones, but the fonts I actually used were MF Love Dings for the heart motif dividers, which was a new download, and then a few standard fonts - Edwardian Script ITC for the title pages, Baskerville Old Face for the chapter headers, Book Antiqua for the chapter titles, and good old Garamond for the actual text of the novel.

Here is the divider and the title fonts. I just think they are neat.

Another thing I learned was how to make book cloth! I found these squares of white cotton fabric at a dollar tree and decided to give it a go. The way I did mine was by painting them first (a task in and of itself, and as you can see on the cover, did not turn out super even, but I love them nonetheless) and then I glued down a layer of tissue paper to give it a little stiffness and make it stick to the chipboard easier, it was a super cool process and I look forward to trying it again in the future now that I have done it once and have a better idea of how I can improve in the future

And now onto some of the other cooler parts of the process!

So I had a lot of fun doing the formatting, it's my favourite part of any binding process, I cannot tell you how many fics I have formated that I have yet to print out and actually bind because I enjoy the process so much (the answer is actually 5 that are completely formatted and ready to go, 3 that I am actively in the middle of formatting, 4 projects completed - including this one, which... may technically count as 3, granted 2 of them were gifts for other people - and 3 that I am planning on doing that I haven't gotten to start on yet. Oh, and a 5 part series that I have printed out but haven't actually bound yet. I have a problem, lmao.) As I mentioned, I downloaded a few fonts for this but it just ended up looking so good in the end. Here is what some of the inner formatting looks like (I did just take the screenshots from word, I thought it was easier than getting the pages in the book)

Something else! This was the first time I actually broke a single fic into multiple parts, and I do not regret it. Each section is fairly large on its own, so it would have been a monster all together. I gave them basically the same title pages and such, just used the main stories summary for all of them and copy pasted everything - work smarter, not harder - and kept the same format for the chapters and such. There were 2 obvious spots (at least imo) for breaking things up, those being at the end of chapter 24, and then again at the end of 57, if you know, you know. However, that made the divide be 24 chapter, 33 chapter, 9 chapters. I was a little worried about how that divide to affect the look of the books, but I was pleasantly surprised how well it worked out. Book 2 there is quite obviously the largest part (it's basically double the length of book 1) but book 3 was surprisingly long for being only 9 chapters and I think they look fairly cohesive together. I didn't realize how long the last nine chapters themselves were. The first and third ones are actually about the same size together as book two, which is pretty cool!

When it came time to put together the actual books, I stuck with my tried and true french link stitch, as I find it to be a sturdy stitch, and then used green, yellow, and red card stock for the end pages, I felt it thematic.

I'm super excited to have this as a physical book now, thank again to chaiandsage for allowing me to bind this amazing story and just for writing it in the first place! I read it like twice in the span of a month, and I swear I have read chapter 57 and 58 themselves way too many times to count. Not even going to mention the amount of times I read the last 6 chapters because I just love a good happy ending.

But yeah, I'm really happy how this bind turned out, I still have to put an actual cover in these - which I plan on doing, I have a friend who is going to help me with the cover design when they are free, so there will be an update at some point.

[gynandromorph]

the script is... drafted. i've been editing and revising as well; over half of it is a "draft 1.5" version that's more acceptable for other people to see... 48/~78. i wasn't so successful at killing my darlings or shortening the script. in my second draft, i will use more highlights for myself, to highlight what exactly i know TECHNICALLY is not necessary (such as beat panels), including entire scenes that i should perhaps elect to draw later. tangentially, i'm considering not drawing this comic chronologically, in order to "hide" style drift/art evolution (TM). i will still try to draw less "exciting" scenes first. i don't know how that will shake out with the patreon situation. perhaps totally randomly selected chapters posted out of order will make an audience less likely to give feedback that would compel me to change the story. the commentary would consequently focus more on the development process than the story or writing. before all of that, though... i still need to settle on a size for the book. i am going to draw a test page, possibly of a scene randomly chosen by a number generator, then resize it for some dimensions i've been considering. i'll be using real writing for it so that i can see what the actual story will look like in those dimensions, not just a random one-off joke page. so far, 9x7 or 10x7 seems desirable, just from holding various comic books in my hands. i've been preoccupied with the size of the text, even though books i considered far too small (blankets, nofna comics) i had absolutely no issue reading, and it never even crossed my mind that they were "small." the only other benefit to significantly larger pages would be fitting more panels into one page, which would at least soften the blow wrt page count. at the end of the day, i cannot even start to thumbnail without knowing what page dimensions i intend to work with. i will deal with it after i finish the preliminary editing.

[wantednuzlocke]

Ayoo it's time for the next retrospective this time we talkin about Chapter 4

Meta Stuff

First of all, holy moly. This is the chapter where we hit in the 200 pages with the comic eh? Another milestone reached.

Chapter 4 features Mt. Battle. In the game another really short stretch of gameplay. Just another row of trainers to fight before you reach the next boss.

With Agate Village cleared we've unlocked the ability to be able to choose to purify Shadow Pokémon. Which means we're now capable of training and evolving the pokémon that have been stolen. AKA, the game can definitely crank up the difficulty now.

Now, you can opt to keep the pokémon in shadow form. The main benefit of it is that Shadow Rush will almost entirely be guaranteed to land a critical hit, and there are no resistances involved.

However, the curve of Pokémon levels is going to be even less merciful now. And if guaranteed critical hits are the only benefit you get, then you're better of purifying the Pokémon you at least want to use.

I've started to use the Exp. Share here. Not to train a pokémon in the inactive slot. But to speed up the grinding process for the pokémon that is actively out on the field, as it funnels more experience towards the pokémon that is carrying it, so instead of the usual 50/50 experience division it will instead become roughly 33/66.

Since this is still *technically* a blind run, I didn't bother to check the levels of the boss. But I had a pretty good idea of Dakim's team and his... Special... Antics... ... Either way, I kept to my habit of grinding for as long as I had Shadow Pokémon on hand, and then equalizing the rest of the team to the level mark my highest Pokémon was at. In this case I grinded until Hitmontop could be purified. And then rounded up my pokémon neatly to the top level of my team. Do not ask me how I managed it. But I effectively hit level 40. That's the exact level Dakim's ace was at.

Though I have to admit, on my first blind nuzlocke run, I was in shock to find a legendary Pokémon that soon. Like... WHAT? I was under the impression the game only just started once you unlocked purification but nooooo. I guess we're already in the endgame...

Either way, Dakim loves to spam Earthquake, so the Entei isn't so much a threat. It just becomes a race of capturing the damn thing before the idiot gorilla ends up knocking it out. I actually selected most of my team exactly to evade the earthquakes entirely or to at least cripple the earthquake dealers with stat drops.

Not that it was super-needed. My strategy was to snipe all his regular pokémon as fast as possible until only Entei was left. And let me tell you... That thing refused to stay in the Pokéball, even when put to sleep. And every time it woke up it almost obliterated a pokémon, forcing me to swap out regularly. I eventually started running out of Pokémon to send out without any deaths occurring. I had a misdreavus, who would DEFINITELY die if she would get hit, and a Hitmontop which I wasn't sure of if it could take a Fire Blast at all.

Eventually I took the gamble, if I had to lose any pokémon I guess Sudowoodo wouldn't be the worst. But that happened to be the moment it decided to stay in the ball. Damn Entei giving me anxiety, but crisis averted, I guess...

The biggest shocker to me however, and this was something only started sinking in when I played Pokémon Grand Colosseum for funsies another time, is the fact that... Finishing with drawing this chapter, meant the half-way point for the story has been crossed. I can hardly believe we're actually halfway done with the Pokémon Colosseum arc.

Plot Planning

This chapter had the one and only battle in it which I immediately had an idea for on how it would play out in comic. Mainly because... Who the hell would earthquake on a floating platform!?!?

But all that said, with how solid some of the main ideas were, I have been altering this chapter's script SO MUCH. I kept rewriting dialogue over and over. The battle with Dakim has also been rewritten several times, even if the core element of falling of the platform had stayed.

There was also one other massive change. Wes. Initially he wasn't even planned to make an appearance at all. He was replaced by Yume fulfilling the role of protagonist. But with Rui being placed back in the comic during chapter 3, I thought it was only fair if Wes was in the story as well. And the more I started pingponging the idea of having him around, what kind of character he was and how he fit in with what little facts we have about him, the more fun interactions popped up. And it got even better when someone suggested to me to make him bisexual.

I normally do not write characters with any sort of sexual orientation in mind. If they have any it will naturally come out through interactions I brainstorm eventually. It's not something I personally can immerse myself properly into... Being asexual myself and all that... And it would also seem in poor taste to write about it in big quantities when no research has been done on it on my end. Besides that, orientation shouldn't be the sole part of a character's identity imo. There is more to a person than just that. All that said, Wes has ended up becoming one of the most fun characters to write, despite him being outside of my usual comfort zone. And his dynamic to Yume is just straight-up fun to write in general.

But yeah, his sudden appearance in the story has done a lot to flip the intial full idea I had for Wanted!'s direction. But eh... That's just how it goes when developing a story. It's becoming a better one for it. The initial work and effort put into the first draft isn't lost. It simply became a foundation for something better.

Veering away from the tangent of last-minute adding in characters. This part of the plot is a turning point. Cipher would tolerate maybe a few slip-ups. But now it's becoming serious business. They don't fully turn all their attention on the protagonist just yet, but at this point they would acknowledge she is a serious threat. Measures were already taken in Agate Village. Not using Shadow Pokémon too excessively as it might just result in more assets for the enemy. And they started to notice there is a pattern. This threat, is actively sabotaging their operations. It's time to whip out the big guns.

And with Cipher bringing out the big guns, it should also become more obvious that Yume is out of her league by choosing to confront them by herself. So far she's been lucky, catching them by surprise, constantly blind-siding them. But as she gains notoriety Cipher become better prepared to actually deal with her, as they continue to gather information on her. In fact, her actions and decisions should start becoming noticeably more and more downright self-destructive. Prioritizing other lives over her own.

Artistic Journey

I already talked in the previous retrospective how much I felt like the quality of my work was being stagnant. So I was effectively on the fence for a while on making changes or refraining from it.

I feel like it's a dilemma that a lot of webcomic artists deal with, when they contemplate on changing anything drastically. "How would the readers cope with the sudden shift in visual style?"

It's hard to know for sure. I myself as a reader don't mind style changes, and often even forget what the old style used to look like real quick. But I am also very aware that I am an extremely tolerant reader. I'm on board with honestly anything as long as the intention of the artist matches with what is in the comic. But it also means I have no frame of reference for how adaptive other readers would be towards drastic changes.

In the end I considered a potential viable compromise. The style I wanted to go for was mainly intended to add visual intensity to battle choreography. And a big battle that was meant to be intense was on the horizon. So that seemed like the perfect point to shift the visual style of the comic.

The style I ended up going for is inspired by 2d art from Mario Strikers Charged football. It looks intense, and is perfect for depicting battles. It is rough, it is messy, and it looks very impactful. So this meant, thicker more defined lines for the characters, and a matching rough shading style. Yep. Shading is back on the menu, albeit in a less complicated form.

And look, it's not a 1 to 1 perfect emulation of the style, but that's on me for not grabbing actual reference images to get it like that. But the messier lineart sure took a lot of mental pressure off of me, actually. And my drawing habits make me still draw in very steady singular lines, rather than the messy sketchiness that MSCF has. But I can still go for it when more battle scenes come up. But even then, the thicker lines still feel a lot nicer to draw with. Gotta relearn going at my linework like I'm drawing with a knife, I guess.

The reception of the new style has overall been positive. Though I suspect that is in part due to the reintroduction of shading. But hey... I like drawing like this. The readers like it. Everyone wins. That's what matters the most. ~

That's all for this chatper's retrospective. It will definitely still be a while before the 5th one will be written. We're still going through the 5th chapter after all. So it's not much of a retrospective if I'm still in the process of developing that chapter. So... Until then... ~

Writing this makes me want to play that mario football game again so I guess I know what I'll be doing today.

[lurkingteapot]

Kidnap the novel, ch. 5 "Skyfall" -- brief synopsis

I have been informed that what I've been calling chapter summaries are technically synopses! til.

I thought the joke'd be on me because I wasn't going to manage to complete the synopsis in time, but maybe I did! So. First points actually already were shown in ep. 4, so I'll leave those visible and add the cut after.

Chapter 5 starts on Q waking up from a nightmare first in his own bed, then wakes again in Min's bed (and arms). Doesn't even think about moving + falls back asleep.

Kachaa is studying the photos of Q laughing with kids about his own age (we assume Min, Men, Khanomjeen). He's glad Q is hidden away in a place his enemies would never think to look. He texts his source thanks, then gets a phone call from Phum, who says he has evidence it wasn't his son involved in the warehouse fire. Kachaa agrees to meet with him.

The scene they rehearsed at the end of ep. 4 is from Min's work! So from the show we saw him working on in eps 1 and 3.

Min's bluescreen moment is down to the fact that the next line he'd have to say contains a confession of love. Q is ??? about it ("get a grip, dude, this is your job, right?") and criticises the script ("who the fuck would willingly die for another person, that's so unrealistic" and of course Min protests he'd die for Men, which Men objects to. (I read it like "oh fuck, that's a death flag" and pray I'm gonna be wrong)

argument about Min's (lack of) acting skills leads to a tussle, Q and Min end up falling to the ground in a pile and laugh their asses off. Men thinks he has them figured out, or at least Min -- he's convinced Min is in way deep, but can't quite get a read on Q.

Min goes to work at Hidden Dragon and overhears conversation mentioning Q's father and Phum by name -- and that Phum has apparently been 'taken care of', and that they're trying to figure out Kachaa's weak spot. Min takes that to mean Q.

While Min is at work, Men tries to figure out what Q thinks of Min -- starting with "so you and Min really are friends, yeah?", and when Q confirms like "what else", Men lists the things that make him think they're way past friends, especially Min, and asks whether Q has any other friends that treat him this way. Q deadpans that he doesn't know because he doesn't have any friends. Men asks him whether he'd be okay with Min liking him for real. Q deflects: there's no way Min likes him, Min just cares for and about people.

Men realises Min forgot his work keycard and dithers about bringing it to him (vs not exerting himself as told). Q immediately volunteers. Men is like "you might not realise this because you don't have any friends, but normal friends don't just drop everything and hurry to bring their friend stuff they forgot."

Min has retreated to the locker room to sort his thoughts. Seua confronts him about not being out on the floor, working. Min asks about quitting. Seua tells him this isn't the kind of job you can quit. It starts to dawn on Min that he's signed away his freedom.

Q gets to Hidden Dragon texts Min that he brought his card, but Min doesn't seem to be reading his messages. Q decides to wait inside. Someone comes to seat him, but their attitude changes when he tells them he brought Min's keycard and they let him into the back. He starts to wonder what kind of place this is ... and then he sees Seua, whom he recalls from the time Yaadaa and Seua came to his house. At that moment Min texts and tries to tell Q to not come to the restaurant. When Q doesn't reply, he even tries to call. Q, who's never seen Min frantic like this, comes to the conclusion that Min must work for these people and decides he has to see for himself. He follows them inside.

Q sees Min across the casino floor, standing next to Seua. A few moments later, Min sees him, and panics both because Q shouldn't be here and because Q looks at him like he's a stranger. He tries to make his way over to Q, but the floor is very crowded.

Q doesn't trust easily and feels massively betrayed, questioning every interaction they had. He's nearly out of the room when he bumps into Yaadaa, who clearly remembers him -- and he her. Seua stops Min from running over to them.

Yaadaa takes Q to her office. Yaadaa tells Q they have a common goal -- to get Kachaa to withdraw from the case. Q plays along to an extent, but doesn't feel inclined to trust her even one bit. When she asks whether he has any questions, he asks about Min. Yaadaa tells Q Min's one of her favourites and asks whether he knows him. Q tries to deflect: nah, he only met him just now. Yaadaa doesn't seem convinced, but before she can press the issue, there's a gunshot and an explosion -- the transformer blew. Communications within the restaurant also seem down. Yaadaa leaves and just leaves one guard with Q, telling him he cannot leave. Q gets increasingly concerned because the fire alarm is going off and there's smoke seeping into the room. He tries to fight the guard, who isn't impressed and tries to hit Q in turn. Min comes in and covers Q, knocks out the guard, and they escape on Min's motorcycle.

As soon as they're away from the restaurant, Q tells Min to stop and let him go. They fight. Q doesn't know how he can trust Min now, Min is hurt Q would think that badly of him. They do return to Min's house together, it's strained, they're not talking or even looking at each other (Men notices). Men helps Min with the welt on his back, asks how he came by it -- did he cover Q like in his script? Min and Q snipe about it and Min goes upstairs. Men is confused and asks Q what's going on. Q tries to deflect because he doesn't feel like explaining the whole kidnapping situation and just asks what kind of person Men thinks Min is.

Min says he'll sleep on the sofa downstairs that night. Q goes to bed in the bedroom by himself and feels strange about seeing all the padded edges Min fixed for him.

In Q's house, Seua is presenting Kachaa with a bloodied mess of documents that Phum had on him when he died. Turns out Seua is spying on Yaadaa for Kachaa. He wanted to help Phum, but couldn't, and feels bad about it. He's also the one who'd been keeping tabs on Q for Kachaa, and the one who started the fire at the casino earlier that day when Yaadaa got hold of Q. They agree that Q was safe with Min, but that that may not be the case anymore. Kachaa will think of a better way to protect Q -- he doesn't want the past to repeat itself.

Q's flashback is to when he was 18. He's running through a field of maize after his mother told him to run, and he's terrified the criminals will catch up with him. He wants to call for his dad, but is also terrified the pursuers will hear him. When he wakes up, he grapples for Min, but Min isn't in the room, and Q has another mini-breakdown when he remembers what happend that day, and how he'd drink or medicate himself to sleep since, until he started to stay with Min. He decides to go downstairs anyway because he needs someone there. Turns out Min had been pacing outside his door anyway, worried Q might fall down the stairs. Hugs and comforting ensues, and they talk a little. Q demands Min tell him why he does all he does if that's not his job. Min says he can't tell, but he just doesn't want to see Q hurt. It's very emotional. Q makes Min promise he won't abandon Q. They hug about it, and it's ~different.

Min has to go to work to shoot the scene he practiced with Q and Men and gets a little too into it -- bursts into tears, sees Q's face superimposed over that of Miki (the actress). Everyone compliments him, and Min has a bit of an "oh shit I love him" moment.